We arrived at the garden near the 17th Wing.
Every Wing had one—carefully maintained plots of nature nestled in between the otherwise towering stone buildings, like patches of peace in a battlefield.
This one was no exception. Stone tiles arranged into winding paths, trimmed hedges, ornate lamps, and a faint scent of lilac drifting in the air.
I motioned toward a nearby bench under the shade of a large sycamore tree.
It was half-splintered at one corner, worn by time and use. Still better than standing.
Celeste gave me a curt nod and sat down, crossing her legs with the elegance of a noble trained to carry herself like a blade—sharp, poised, ready to cut.
I took the other end of the bench, keeping a fair distance. No reason to sit close and tempt death.
The garden was surprisingly quiet. A few students buzzed around like bored flies—four, maybe five at most.
Some were probably hiding in the bushes, either doing something suspicious or making out like degenerates. Who knows.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
I let the silence settle in.
Let her get comfortable. Or uncomfortable. Both worked in my favor.
Then, with a soft sigh, I finally broke the silence.
"I want you to do something for me."
She responded immediately. "Depends."
I gave a small chuckle. "I think you’ll enjoy it."
She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Confident, aren’t we? Alright. I’m listening."
Her hazel gaze met mine, sharp as always.
"I’m sure you’re aware we’ll have to form factions soon," I began. "Once the Mythria conflict dies down and the Academy shifts focus to internal power struggles."
She nodded. "Yeah. After the war ends. Everyone knows it."
She tilted her head. "So? Let me guess. You want me to join your little club?"
I shook my head. "No. Not that."
A smirk tugged at her lips. "Good. That would’ve been boring."
Of course it would’ve been.
I exhaled slowly, leaning forward just a little. "You know about Verena, right?"
The name alone was enough to ignite that spark in her eyes.
She smirked. "Oh, you mean the girl you tried to choke to death? Aren’t you a kinky one? Got a fetish, big boy?"
I fought the urge—again—to grab her by the head and repeatedly introduce her face to the stone path. Maybe etch some wisdom into her skull.
But outwardly, I kept calm. Composed. Serene.
Like a monk suppressing a murder charge.
"Yeah, that Verena. The one you despise."
Her smirk thinned. Slight tilt of the head. "How are you so sure I do?"
"Your wording earlier."
She blinked. Just once. But that was all I needed to confirm I hit the mark.
Still, she recovered quickly. "Huh. Impressive deduction. How’d you figure that?"
I leaned back and gave a casual shrug. "Just a hunch."
Celeste’s hatred for Verena wasn’t shallow. Wasn’t born from petty rivalry or classroom drama. No, it was something older. Deeper.
She despised peasants. Commoners. And she had her genuine reason.
Not because she was a pampered noble who believed in birthright supremacy.
She used to be... different.
Once, she was the kind of girl who’d sneak out of her estate just to feed street kids.
Who walked through slums without guards. Who offered kindness like it was endless.
But life had a habit of punishing kindness the harshest.
Some sick fuck—some nobody—had taken advantage of that kindness. Assaulted her when she was young around 12-14 years. When she was pure.
After that, something broke.
She didn’t scream about it. Didn’t seek revenge. She just... changed.
Her father? He handled it. Dragged the bastard into their dungeon. He was still alive—if you could call that living. Kept breathing just to suffer.
Tortured everyday like he fucking deserved.
But Celeste never brought it up. Never wore her trauma like a badge.
She just let it fester.
Let it transform into this quiet, boiling rage she aimed at every peasant, every commoner and everyone who acted like their Messiah.
Her hatred wasn’t just deep. It was personal.
She scoffed, breaking the silence. "So what? What do you want?"
I finally turned fully toward her, locking eyes.
"I want you to help me destroy her."
Celeste blinked slowly, like I’d just said the stupidest thing in the world. "You want me to help you destroy Verena?" Her voice was flat, dry, laced with an edge of disbelief. "That’s your grand idea?"
"Not destroy," I replied calmly, "just... rearrange her position in the academy."
She tilted her head. "That sounds like a fancy way of saying destroy."
"Tomato, tomahto," I said with a shrug.
Her eyes narrowed. "You’re not doing this just because she mouthed off during class, right? Because if you’re being this petty—"
’Hey don’t read me like a goddamn book. You were so damn close!’
"She’s a problem," I interrupted. "Not just for me. For a lot of people. She’s got an angle, and I don’t like the way she’s playing the game. She’s too loud, too polished, and way too ambitious for someone who doesn’t even know the rules yet."
Celeste stared at me. "You’re paranoid."
That shit fuck was trying to influence and manipulate my sister. I was going to drag her to hell and worse.
"No," I said. "I’m cautious."
"And why come to me?"
I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I let the question hang in the air, watching her try to piece it together herself.
Finally, I said, "Because you hate her. You see through the mask. And more than that, you’re smart. You know how to use your hate without letting it ruin you."
She scoffed. "So what, you want me to go full spy mode? Infiltrate her pathetic little peasant circle and report back to you like some gossiping servant girl?"
I smirked. "Not quite."
She raised an eyebrow.
"I just want you to keep an eye on her," I said. "No deep undercover missions, no playing nice unless you absolutely have to. Just observe. Be nearby. Let her know you’re watching."
"That sounds easy," she said cautiously.
"It is," I said. "But there’s more. I want you to... shape perception. Quietly. Start a few rumors. Nothing overt—just enough to make people look at her twice before believing anything she says. Undermine her credibility. Isolate her. Make her realize that if she wants protection, influence, and stability... she’ll have no choice but to come to me."
Celeste blinked again. Then, for the first time since we started talking, a grin crept across her lips. It wasn’t kind. It was razor-edged.
"Let me get this straight," she said, folding her arms. "You want me to push her so far into a corner that she thinks joining your faction is her best option?"
"I’ll handle the rest," I said smoothly. "You don’t have to worry about that."
Yeah, I will be ready with open arms. More like Mia will be ready with open arms. But still tomato, tomahto... same thing.
She looked at me for a long moment, then chuckled. "That’s... cold."
"It’s practical," I corrected. "And it works."
Celeste shook her head, still grinning. "You really are something else."
I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to.
She exhaled through her nose, then gave a small shrug. "Fine. I’ll keep an eye on the peasant. And I’ll start sprinkling some poison in the air. But you better not make me regret it."
"Oh, and Cassius?" she added as I turned.
I glanced over my shoulder.
"If she joins you... don’t go soft. She’s still a cockroach. Pretty soon, you’ll have to crush her."
"I don’t go soft," I said, and walked away.
Behind me, the garden rustled with wind and whispers. And far in the distance, a storm was beginning to form.
’You will regret making me your enemy Miss Verena...’